For the first time, everyone at my house is employed. One daughter works at sports venues selling concessions and the other works at a local store.
The recaps of their shifts have been both entertaining and somewhat disturbing. But mostly, they've been a bit life-changing, because I have been unable to hear how strangers treat these lovely young creatures whom I adore without considering how I have, on occasion, treated other people's lovely and adored young creatures.
The other day, my oldest, who is 18, didn't see a bag that one of her customers brought with him from home, so she didn't take the nickel he'd have saved off his grocery bill. When he pointed it out, she offered to give him a nickel. That wasn't good enough. He wanted it "off the bill." He wanted her to do her job. He wanted her to stop being "stupid," a phrase he used three times.
My youngest, 17, had a customer threaten bodily harm because she said he'd have to wait a few minutes for the hot dogs to finish cooking.
Those incidents are so over-the-top that they're laughable. They are also common, at least judging from the torrent of customer interaction recaps I've had shared with me by friends since I posted a brief comment on social media.
A friend whose daughter is a waitress told me about a customer who threw a glass of water in her face because she was slow to bring the check. I've heard dozens of stories about snarky customers and the forms that their complaints took.
I have a theory that the enraged fellow who wanted his nickel was not really mad at my daughter about the nickel at all. Nor was the customer who threatened injury that upset because his hot dog was not already hot and ready to go.
I think all of us to some degree tend to see those we don't know especially those who are serving us in some way as a safe dumping ground for the irritations that have accumulated over the course of a day. Maybe his wife snapped at him and he chose not to escalate the argument at home, but felt he had to dump on someone and the nickel incident provided an excuse. Maybe the guy waiting for the hot dog had been placed on interminable hold while he was trying to solve a credit problem earlier in the day and just couldn't be put off for another second at the moment, no matter what.
I do know that when I am having a happy day, I can be endlessly kind and patient with others. I will stand happily by the cash register and let the clerks ignore me while they talk about their weekend, as long as it doesn't go on forever. If, however, it was a rough day at work and someone beat me up in the comments section, I am more likely to clear my throat impatiently and try to redirect the attention back to the business of meeting my need as the customer so I can get on my way. Having an item ring up at the wrong price hits different buttons depending on my mood.
There's a ripple effect to interactions. My bad day spills onto yours and you take that sour note and drop it on someone else. And so it goes. Which means that the opposite is also true: I have the power to be kind or cheerful (even if I'm faking it) and put someone else in a better mood, too. Oddly, both come back to me.
I've noticed that snapping at a clerk doesn't actually make me feel better. Joking with one does. In a me-centric world, being kind still makes perfect sense.
The recaps of their shifts have been both entertaining and somewhat disturbing. But mostly, they've been a bit life-changing, because I have been unable to hear how strangers treat these lovely young creatures whom I adore without considering how I have, on occasion, treated other people's lovely and adored young creatures.
The other day, my oldest, who is 18, didn't see a bag that one of her customers brought with him from home, so she didn't take the nickel he'd have saved off his grocery bill. When he pointed it out, she offered to give him a nickel. That wasn't good enough. He wanted it "off the bill." He wanted her to do her job. He wanted her to stop being "stupid," a phrase he used three times.
My youngest, 17, had a customer threaten bodily harm because she said he'd have to wait a few minutes for the hot dogs to finish cooking.
Those incidents are so over-the-top that they're laughable. They are also common, at least judging from the torrent of customer interaction recaps I've had shared with me by friends since I posted a brief comment on social media.
A friend whose daughter is a waitress told me about a customer who threw a glass of water in her face because she was slow to bring the check. I've heard dozens of stories about snarky customers and the forms that their complaints took.
I have a theory that the enraged fellow who wanted his nickel was not really mad at my daughter about the nickel at all. Nor was the customer who threatened injury that upset because his hot dog was not already hot and ready to go.
I think all of us to some degree tend to see those we don't know especially those who are serving us in some way as a safe dumping ground for the irritations that have accumulated over the course of a day. Maybe his wife snapped at him and he chose not to escalate the argument at home, but felt he had to dump on someone and the nickel incident provided an excuse. Maybe the guy waiting for the hot dog had been placed on interminable hold while he was trying to solve a credit problem earlier in the day and just couldn't be put off for another second at the moment, no matter what.
I do know that when I am having a happy day, I can be endlessly kind and patient with others. I will stand happily by the cash register and let the clerks ignore me while they talk about their weekend, as long as it doesn't go on forever. If, however, it was a rough day at work and someone beat me up in the comments section, I am more likely to clear my throat impatiently and try to redirect the attention back to the business of meeting my need as the customer so I can get on my way. Having an item ring up at the wrong price hits different buttons depending on my mood.
There's a ripple effect to interactions. My bad day spills onto yours and you take that sour note and drop it on someone else. And so it goes. Which means that the opposite is also true: I have the power to be kind or cheerful (even if I'm faking it) and put someone else in a better mood, too. Oddly, both come back to me.
I've noticed that snapping at a clerk doesn't actually make me feel better. Joking with one does. In a me-centric world, being kind still makes perfect sense.
